A recap of my LL game

Well, it's been a while since I've written...and that's not right. So, in lieu, I've decided to write a bit of a recap (and background) of the Labyrinth Lord game that I'm running for my daughters.

Background: Each of the girls rolled up stats using the 3d6 method but I allowed them to swap one stat for another. I know, I know, softy. But hey, they're my girls! My eldest wanted to really play an elf, and she rolled like you wouldn't believe. She had an 18 and nothing lower than a 10. I mean c'mon... Pretty amazing.

My youngest rolled high as well, just not quite as high as my eldest. She wanted to play an elf as well but when she heard about the cleric she wanted to play an elf cleric. Hmmmm OK, so how to navigate this? Turns out she just wants to "look" like an elf. She actually sort of looks like an elf in real life (small and thin w/ spritely features).

So what do you do for a wee little one who wants to "look" like an elf? Well, you make her the first 1/2 elf of course!

Safara: Elf level 1

Ember: 1/2 elf cleric of Freya level 1

I opted for a sandbox-type campaign and drew up my own map while borrowing freely from other sources. The "land" doesn't yet have a name but the campaign itself is called the Eastern Verge. Many of the names of areas, rivers, streams, hills, etc. come from other sources. Ben Robbins Western Marches was a great inspiration and I've culled items from Scott over atWilderlands OD&D as well as some wonderful ideas from James over at Grognardia. As you can imagine, it's a potpourri of inspiration.

The small border town that the characters have started out in is named Botkinburg, borrowed freely from Troll Lord's Castles and Crusades setting, which sits nestled comfortably on the western back of the Hreusen river, which itself constitutes the far eastern border of the "Kingdom". Like Ben's setting, all is wild and untrammeled beyond the town. Not many have ventured far into the wilds and no one in their right mind goes looking for trouble.

Generally, the land is in a temperate to tropic climatological zone with foliage and weather much like southern Florida. (minus the hurricanes) There are forested lands hills to the east that rise gently to a broken ridge, that juts out of the ground by up to as much as 100' in certain spots. Along this flows the Hruesen which bends around in a large arc. On top of this ridge lies a different zone, consisting of sparse trees, intense heat and flat expansive lands, much like a massive mesa.

To the north lies a large ancient forest, wherein reside all types of unknown creatures. (duh) And to the south lies swamps and eventually a fetid jungle, wherein lies a forgotten city and the entrance to the "mega dungeon". (I'm using the old JG Caverns of Thracia as my mega.)

Within one day's ride (and closer) lie many different types of features and encounters. I'm using the old JG Judges Ready Ref Sheets and Kellri's excellent Encounters pdf to flesh things out a bit, but beyond the random encounters and events are many set encounters. For instance, the "troll bridge" or more commonly known as the "toll bridge" (most have never actually visited the place) which of course has a resident troll acting as bridge guardian. But this troll is different; He's actually quite old, reasonable, and civilized.

There a very strong contingent of fey living amongst the wilds and therefore many places that are sacred to them as well. Toadstool rings, groves and hidden pools lie in abundance, but not in obvious places.

I've tried to set it up so that it promotes a sense of exploration and adventure. I've seeded it with ancient, dead cultures, mysterious races, malign guardians, forgotten cities and all sorts of oddities...hopefully each of them leads our intrepid adventurers onward, deeper into the wilderness.

Safara and Ember start at the Bent Hook, broke and looking for money. They've both heard that there is much adventure and of course loot to be found to the east, which in turn led them on their far trek here, to Botkinburg.

After hiring a total of 6 henchmen and attracting a few followers; a wayward knight named SirPellinor and his companion, the mage Halister the Grey (I know, I know, hugely creative.), they set forth into the wilderness, heading south along the river Hruesen.

A few hours south of the town of Botkinburg the group comes upon the "Toll Bridge", which in point of fact appears more as ruins surrounding a very old stone bridge spanning a particularly narrow and deep point in the Hruesen. Deciding that this would be a good place to break for lunch, the group breaks out food and spreads out amongst the trees, but soon the strange "snap", "snap" of sticks breaking amongst the ruins distracts the group.

Safara and Ember approach the tumbled ruins of what appeared at one time to be a tower, from opposing directions. They come upon a giant crab dismembering the carcass of a deer amidst the giant stones. It detects them and comes scrambling up quickly, claws swinging wide, searching for fresh food. The henchmen scramble quickly away from the oversize horror as Sir Pellinor and Halister run to join their comrades.

The battle was a tight thing as the giant crab is quite a fearsome opponent. Initially the heroes have a very difficult time piercing the thick chitinous shell and the mighty claws present an even more deadly obstacle. It's a tight thing initially, but after a magic missile from Safara and a critical strike with her staff, the beast is brought to the ground.

Both Safara and Ember decided that since they were so close to the bridge in the first place that they'd check it out... And soon they figured out that it wasn't "Toll" bridge, but Troll bridge, as a grey-skinned beast emerged from  beneath and declared that a toll for crossing was due. This was either 1 goat per traveler, or something similar.

Ember came up with crab meat as an offering and bartered the crossing of the entire party out of the giant crustacean. Not that the group necessarily wanted to cross but hey...the opportunity presented itself and viola! cross the bridge the party went.

Once upon the opposite side they decide to investigate the other tower that guards this side of the ancient bridge. In a more intact state, this tower in fact has an occupant; a giant spider has spun her web and claimed this as her hunting grounds. But Safara is not a fool as she sees cobweb blowing in the breeze through the open archway, she strikes flame to a torch and tosses it through the opening, quickly catching webs alight and forcing the hideous occupant out through the smoking top.

The hairy beast quickly scuttles down the wall and drops directly on Ember, who screams, arms waving as she desperately attempts to dislodge the unwelcome guest. Safara draws her dagger and strikes the arachnid a telling blow as it tries to sink it's mandibles into Ember's shoulder...to no avail. Ember then quickly grabs a leg tossing the spider against the wall where she then brings her staff to bear squishing the nasty beast with one blow.

After the brief fight, Safar finds an ancient skeleton lying amidst the leaves and detritus in the bottom of the now scorched tower and next to it lies a mouldering and rotted leather pack wherein the find a small sack of silver and copper coins of unknown mint. They take these and continue their journey.

The group hiked for a little ways into the forested hills, trending generally northwards, destination unknown. As evening approaches the group searches for a spot to make camp. A rocky knoll presents a tenable location and the party members break out their gear and food after brushing down the horses.

During their evening meal, just as the sun is setting, a gruff voice calls out from the woods. "Ho the camp...Would you mind company for the sake of safety?" A grizzled man dressed in greens and brown leathers emerges from the edge of the woods at the foot of the hill, arms spread wide. He claims that he's one of the Duke's huntsmen and that the party has actually camped for the eve on the huntsman's traditional spot.

Safara and Ember confer, and agree that it would be fine if the huntsman joined. Turns out though that there's more than just one huntsman, as a group of six more emerge from the woods carrying their recent prey between them. There is no danger though, as the Duke's men seem, if not a bit rough around the edges, an honest group.

The head huntsman is questioned later that evening regarding the bridge troll and the immediate area. He tells the two that the troll is benign as long as the toll is paid..The immediate area though is far from benign. Safara and Ember ask if there are any areas close by that might yield some type of treasure, for that is what they are by profession; adventurers.

Scratching his head, the grizzled old huntsman says that this wood, the Tangle Downs, is plenty dangerous, but that the huntsmen steer clear of anything that's obviously not going to produce any game. One of those places is an old abandoned monastery to the north of here, not more than a half-day journey. It sits atop a stony knoll, surrounded by burnt and stunted trees. Just a series of tumbled stone blocks outlining the old abbey, there are rumors of things that roam at night, guarding unknown treasures from bygone days.

Perfect! This is the opportunity that the group is looking for, and with the coming of the sun they set off...

(For James M's Ruined Monastery)

Lines and Holes

One of the things that I really loved to do before the advent of the internet was to page through books and photocopy cool images for my Dungeons and Dragons group. When they started adding supporting images to modules I was in love. S1, S4 and C1 were truly evolutionary for me. But the best resource I had besides any image that was included in a module was the magazine "National Geographic". You could find the neatest, most amazing, unbelievable things between the covers of those magazines.

It's true that reality is often stranger than fiction. The old adage "You can't make that up...", nearly always holds true when viewing an odd image out of a "National Geographic". Fast forward to the modern era and toss Google into the mix and Viola! You've got one of the coolest inspirational tools at your disposal. I'm going to mention just two small instances of real-world examples that just beg to be ported into your fantasy campaign: Cenotes and Nazca Lines.

A cenote (Wikipedia link) is basically just a type of naturally occurring hole in the surface of the earth, through which the ground water can be easily accessed. These are for the most part a pretty common occurrence on the Yucatan Peninsula. But they are far from common when you see them in real life. They absolutely scream "Cool access to an underground fairy realm!", or "Portal to the elemental plane of water!". I'm sure that you can think of all sorts of things right? You don't have to view them in real life to be inspired, they're seriously cool man.

Now, the Nazca Lines (Wikipedia link) are NOT naturally occurring, which in fact is one of the things that makes these things so damned neat. Simply stated, these Nazca Lines are a series of "pictures" (otherwise known as geoglyphs) that stood for something to the ancient indigenous peoples of Peru. They're massive, sometimes cryptic, sometimes recognizable images of things that can actually be seen from space. Despite the many rumors that surround these lines, it is widely held that they were in fact quite easily constructed by the technology that was readily available to the people of that time. But who cares? Look at these things...Tell me that doesn't make your mind spin.

You look at a Nazca Line and immediate you're thinking ancient space faring race right? Or some kind of cult that created ley lines pointing to deeply important religious sites. These things of course can be stumbled upon by adventurers...maybe deep in a jungle, or on a high plateau, and they'd be tough to recognize from that angle. What are they? These things that stretch off in impossibly straight lines? Off into the far, dusty distance or the emerald shadows of a jungle, they stretch towards unknown treasures and lost cultures. 

Just like in real life.

Working with ancestors

James M., over at Grognardia had a nice little write up on his "Drow", he calls them Eld. And to be quite frank, like James, I'm a wee bit sick of Drow and am in dire need of something a little different. I loved the Drow when they first appeared on the scene in the G modules, but unfortunately R.A. Salvatore and Drizt has ruined it for me. For some reason I associate Drow with WoW or McDrow these days. They've just been run into the ground and are as stale as last week's pancakes.

So it's back to the drawing board. I'm going to borrow a little of James' hard work (His original article can be found here.) as the basis for my elder race and give them a tweak or two in order to personalize them a tad and let them slip seamlessly into my fantasy taxonomy.

Eld: (yes I'll keep the name...it's cool)

The Eld are an ancient race, descended from the deep voids of space, that had originally colonized the dark side of the largest moon, orbiting the "world". A natural hop, skip and jump placed them smack in the middle of a wilderness that had yet to be populated by an intelligent "master" race. The Eld fit that to a 'T'.

By bringing strange technologies from their home world, coupled with their mastery of the arcane forces of chaos, the Eld were masters of all they surveyed. 

And so on and so on... Much like James' Eld, but with a twist. Read on.

The Eld were a race born of the darkness between stars and had descended from a planet that knew natural light only a fraction of the time (Think "Pitch Black"). While direct light wasn't part of their evolution, light did exist and was used....The closest moon to their home world was a luminous and silvery entity that marked the Eld's day and night with its orbit.

Reflected light played a large part in the magic of the Eld, and they became masters of reflections; Travelling through mirrors, pools and any reflective surface the Eld also were able to cast over long distances and discovered much about the dark places by casting their reflections farther and farther into the chaos. And as all things that touch chaos for too long, the Eld soon became warped through close association.

The current Eld now live in the deeper darkness beneath the surface world and there they still cast their likeness and weave their madness-laced spells through flickering light and reflection. A shadow or an errant reflection seen in a mirror is often termed "An Elder Casting" by the common folk of the surface world, but the meaning has been largely lost. Some of the older races know of the Eld but it has been long since they've been heard of...and longer yet since they've been "seen".

Their are a few ancient Eld cities still in existence, now mostly inhabited by degenerate slave races, that lie deep beneath the surface. These cities are twisted and strangely difficult on the eyes of the surface folk. They reflect any light cast upon them into odd dimensions so that the buildings and thin purple spires twist and weave as if they live. Shadows seem to rush and ebb, as if they were the tides of an unseen ocean that crowd the narrow, empty streets.

The Eld themselves are a dying race and it is extremely rare to ever come across one. Most of those that still live are deeply ensnared in a "casting"...and can be found on occasion in front of one of their enormous black mirrors, staring deeply into the depths, as unresponsive as a corpse. Their cities are troves of strange technologies and magics, the likes of which would bend most sane minds, still, these are items of great power.

Who knows what power the Eld still wield as a collective race. They yet might control things on such a subtle scale that none can detect their influence. Or maybe they've been "gone" so long that they've been eternally lost to the chaotic maelstrom. No one living can tell these things. And that may be for the best.

Making hay while the sun shines...

I love that old adage. What it means to me, in this day and age, is that you've got to work while the muse has its talons in you, otherwise...it's gone. Piffft! Like morning mist under the hot sun, it just somehow disappears.

My daughters (10 and 7) have finally rolled up a couple of characters for a sandbox game of Labyrinth Lord. I was (and still am really) vacillating back and forth between LL and Swords and Wizardry. I finally decided upon Labyrinth Lord due to the existence of the thief. I know that there's a lot of hemming and hawing in regards to the thief and the part that class plays in the game, but I'm a fan. Simple and straightforward.

What I've got so far is a small town called Botkinburg (from C&C's Blacktooth Ridge), which I thought apropos since we've just returned from a trip to Germany and much of what the Chenaults have written seems to be very Germanic in name and feel. Let's just say it's the mood I'm currently in and go with that.

I'm using the Hruesen river from the Troll Lord Games setting as well...since, well it's there. Beyond that though, it's a crap-shoot. I've gathered all sorts of ideas from near and far and have yet to truly place them on a map, not to mention flesh them out. So, I thought I'd try and post a couple of ideas / locations per day (not likely, but hey, a guy can dream can't he?).

Up first, is the hermit from B2 Keep on the Borderlands. I've always loved the Erol Otis illustration and I always imagined that there was a lot more to the gnarly dude than the little snippet mentioned in the module.

So here's my take (apologies to GG if I'm treading on toes or messing with "canon".):

The Hermit of Tangle Downs is of an indeterminate age, as well as race. No one has spoken with him in ages, but he's also been a part of the local lore for as long as anyone can remember. The Tangle Downs is an area rife with danger, and the hermit sits right amidst it without a care in the world, with only a wild cougar to call companion. Now why might that be?

As previously stated, no one knows where the Hermit came from, he's "always been there". Which might seem to be the case, but the truth of the matter is, he's a dead wizard's "familiar" guarding a long forgotten library.

Long before this area was inhabited by humans, a stranger came out of the far east, some say from beyond the ocean, some say from even further. But the exact location has been lost to the passage of time. What is known, through old wives tales or just plain myth, is that he worked in the arcane arts and bent the forces of chaos to his will in order to build an abode. An ebon tower of basalt had sprung up over night. And within? There were none about, not elves, not gnomes, nor dwarves or hobbits, that were brave enough to explore that fell dwelling.

Long years passed, the wizard disappeared and the tower fell into disrepair...decaying quicker than natural. There are those that say that it was chaos claiming its own.

Today the Hermit sits and waits. He guards that which is invaluable; lore of the forgotten ages.

While the Hermit is interesting, what lies below is even more so. The ancient oak that grows twistingly towards the sky was at one time just a seedling in an old crumbling parapet garden, sitting atop the tower of that eastern practitioner of dark arts. The energies released from thaumaturgic circles and night-borne rituals eventually made their way to the tree, and over time fed it in a way that no natural rain or sunshine ever could.

Over the ages the tower crumbled, but the oak endured, as did the servant within. His master had died long ago, but the enchantments that kept him here were strong beyond imagining. Decades, then eventually eons passed and the lure of the knowledge drew him to the shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls. There he feasted upon dark thoughts and ancient, twisting wisdom until he had sated himself.

The ancient tree's roots slowly replaced much of the stone in that top tower room, the only room to survive the passage of time. And in so doing, a vaulted chamber of stone and living, enchanted wood became the resting place of much stygian learning.

These days the Hermit sits in a small, simple room within the tree, above the ancient library. He guards and watches as he's always done. And every once in a while, if the right question is asked, if the right tone of voice is used and the correct offerings made, the Hermit's mind takes fire and it is possible to hold discourse with him....For a short time. His knowledge of the arcane, of the places between places, creatures from the depths of the void and what once stood in the area, are beyond ken. He is truly a font.

But, this slight window does not remain open for long. The chaos of what slithers upon the pages below overcomes the rational, and he reverts, back to the mad Hermit that has forever dwelt in the Tangle Downs.

My Avatar

This guy is so cool.... I can't even tell you what Hobbes means to me. He and Calvin were, and are, such an integral part of who I was during the time that the cartoon was nationally syndicated. Bill Waterson is brilliant.

I mean really, there's no one I can think of that's capable of coming up with such a loveable couple of characters.

From a Discussion...

This is weak, I know, but in the effort to post more often I'm clipping a piece I wrote as a comment on The Emperyan that I thought was relevant:

"An interesting thought occurred to me the other day as I sat having a conversation with one of my pals about this "old school" movement; the rules matter. Now that epiphany might seem both blatantly obvious as well as simplistic but it's the way that I came to it that brought it home for me.

After commenting that too many rules constrict imagination my buddy said well why don't we take the approach of rules subtraction and apply old school methodology to our current (4E) game. I've heard this argument before...

In a nutshell, it doesn't work. At least within the construct of 4E. 

Here's an example: Say I've got a thief (er, rogue...sorry.) and he's in a bit of a tussle in the local constabulary. The room is strewn with tables and furniture of one sort or another and he's eager to put his vaunted dexterity to the test. After all, that's what thieves are known for right?

So he plans to flip a footstool into the face of an oncoming assailant and then leap onto the table in order to foil the clumsy attack of the bumbling guardsman. 

OK, so in 4E it plays out rather like this:
DM: Your turn...
Player: I kick the small footstool through the air towards the oncoming guard on my left there in order to slow his approach.
DM: What power are you using to do this?
Player: Power? Uhm...Er...

Phbbbbt!

Scene dramatics fizzle out and fade to grey.

To put it simply, the 4E rules are meant to be used in a very certain way. Granted, a creative group could describe what they're doing and bend the power to the action. But IF it doesn't specifically fit then they're shoe-horning things. And this is a pain. Why do it? Why not use rules that were meant for this style of play?

Thus the resurgence of "old school". IMHO of course."

House of the Worm Part 1

Hey ya, (faint echoes from an empty chamber...) ;-)

I had mentioned earlier that I had run a game of Microlite20 during a fest, and that I was going to post the recap of the session. Well here's part 1. Enjoy:

Players / PCs:

Ben - Human Rogue (Atadus "The Salesman")

Chris - 1/2 Elf Ranger (Duncan Sabastian McLoud..(NO that's not a misspelling of McLeod))

Ed - Lizardman Fighter (Sleeeestak)

Ray - Drow Paladin (Zenin)

DM: Jeff

A bright Fall day dawns clear and crisp upon the small town of Botkinburg. Located on the far eastern borders of the Great Kingdom, the town embraces some of the less savory citizens that the kingdom has to offer. It is as far as an individual might get from the law, and yet still be in "civilized" lands... For not far to the east, in fact just across the Hruesen river, lies the Wilderness. And everyone knows that the Wilderness holds only death and danger.

It is this fact that draws the four adventurers to the small town, for it is well known among that particular sect that danger usually equates to money and glory. The Bent Hook is the only tavern in town, better known as "Ortloff's House of Sludge" (for the thick beer brewed in the basement), it provides a warm place to sleep and incidentally, also some valuable information. Apparently many years ago there was another group of adventurers that had tested the Wilderness to the east, and it was here, the Bent Hook, that they utilized as their base between forays. Unfortunately about 10 years ago there was a fire that burnt The Bent Hook to the ground and killed a few of the adventurers. The catastrophe caused the group to disband...An adventuring party hasn't been seen in Botkinburg since.

A back room of the tavern was where they met, planned and drew what they new of the Wilderness on the wall with whatever was handy. Often as not it was a knife or some charcoal from the fireplace used to indelibly mark their progress. Over time a map emerged. It was not particularly accurate but it was a log of where the adventurers had been, the things they had seen and those area that had as yet to be conquered. This wall became famous amongst the patrons at the House of Sludge, it gave the common man a view into the danger that lies only a short distance beyond their dusty doorsteps.

Fast forward a decade and the only remaining part of the famous wall is a section that Ortloff found amongst the ashes after the fire that destroyed his establishment. This small surviving piece of wall seemed to detail an area called Pike Hollow, somewhere off to the north east of Botkinburg...Maybe a day or so of marching through tangled woods, sloping hills and sharp ravines. In the Hollow though lies a hill, and upon that hill lies the House of the Worm. According to the small section of map, it had never truly been explored, but only just "stumbled" upon. And engraved in the wood next to the map itself was a poem of sorts, some if it burnt and obscured by the fire:

"Below the ground, where pale worms crawl,

lies darkness vast, so cold, and deep.

Lord Ramm holds court at the end of the fall,

and there lies the tool, the treasure we seek.

His mind has sipped chaos at the edges of space,

appease his longing with artifice, lor... (burnt)

... (burnt)... of sanguine will slake."

Ortloff takes the group outside and points off into the hazy distance, "That's 'bout where Pike Holler lies...least ways, that's what them that's been there's told me. You git across that river by way of the Troll Bridge." Each of the adventurers look at one another, "Troll Bridge or Toll Bridge?" 

Ortloff scratches his head, nods and says, "Yeah, that's what I said." 

Meanwhile, Duncan takes careful note and memorizes the landscape as reference in preparation for the march through the dark trees.

A few preparations take all of an hour and the doughty band of explorers are off, heading down the bank of the mighty Hruesen river in search of this "Toll / Troll" bridge. Warm and crisp fall weather accompanies the group on their journey to the bridge, but the landscape changes quite drastically. It's more than obvious that the town's folk do not venture this way, for the banks are overgrown with thick vegetation and there's nary a trail to be seen.

Not long after their departure though the group happens across an old, weathered, stone bridge spanning the Hruesen. This must be it. Sitting in the middle of nowhere this obviously dwarven structure has no roads leading to it nor is anything evident upon the opposite shore. Old Spanish moss hangs under the bridge, slowly dragging it's hoary fingers idly in the water and lichens cover nearly every other weather worn surface. Nonetheless, it looks structurally sound.

Atadus approaches from the side, under cover of the foliage, while using the susurrus of the Hruesen to mask the sound of his approach. The contrast between the shadows and the bright sun makes peering under the bridge difficult, and therefore the thief is taking his time. Zenin is not of the mind to "wait", and he proceeds to stomp across the bridge, throwing caution (and prudence?) to the wind. Sleeestack joins the dark elf, and the noise of metal clad boots on stone reverberates up and down the river.

A dark shape, detaches itself from under the bridge like a bloated bi-pedal spider and clambers up from the dark. "Who walks upon my bridge?" rumbles forth from the creature as it makes its way up. Zenin answers with a query of his own, "Who wants to know?". As the creature finally makes its way to the top of the bridge and stands up, it's full size can be seen. Standing between 7 to 8 feet tall, the hunched grey-skinned brute's hands swing below its knees and nearly drag on the stone of the bridge. Beetling eyes stare from beneath huge brow ridges set in a craggy face appearing to have been carved from primordial stone.

"I want to know....I am the keeper of this bridge. And to use it you must pay." rasps the monstrosity. Zenin asks what the toll might consist of. Goats, replies the guardian. "Well, we're fresh out. I think we'll just pass instead." quips the dark elf paladin as he attempts to nimbly step past the brute.

"No, you NOT pass!" roars the creature as it takes a double armed swipe. Battle is joined, and as hoary as this monstrosity seems, it is no match for the combined might of the adventurers. Sleeeestack's enchanted sword proves to come in handy, as part way into the combat the creature slams its palms down onto the stony surface of the bridge and quickly regenerates all of its wounds minus those made from the lizardman barbarian's blade.

Soon enough the wounds are too much to overcome, and the behemoth topples over. As it's massive body strikes the bridge a resounding "CRACK" splits the air and dust rises from the ancient structure as it starts to shake in its foundations. Seems that the guardian was connected to the bridge in more ways than one.

Atadus, ever the conscientious adventurer quickly grabs a rope from his pack, ties it about his waste and hand the bitter end to his Lizardman companion. With a shout he runs across the shaking bridge, plants a foot and swings over the side, using the rope as a lever...and up underneath near the large central pillar. Quickly surveying the situation through choking dust and falling stone, the thief spies a cleft in the pillar with a small black box firmly ensconced. He nabs it and swings back out. Just as the far end of the bridge on the Botkinburg side collapses with a groan and a splash.

The small worn box is dealt with quickly and opens to reveal 40 or so grey coins. They are obviously quite old, as the face of each is stamped with a frightful lizardlike countenance of a long forgotten king of the Lizard Empire. It is not recognizable by any of the adventurers so they divide them up and pocket their just rewards. Wounds are cleaned, a little food is broken out and thirsts slaked, and afterwards the journey towards the House of the Worm is continued.

The foliage becomes thicker and the travel that much more difficult. Duncan takes his bearings many times, and the party is thankful for that as they make their way through tangles of scrub oak and tight underbrush. As the day passes its zenith Duncan raises his hand as he hears a noise up ahead...

Again, Zenin seems to care naught for subterfuge nor the party's safety as he continues on his noisy way. Sleeeestack shrugs his massive shoulders, and again, follows the paladin's lead. Atadus and Duncan, on the other hand, figure that this is the perfect time for prudence as they disappear quietly into the surrounding brush.

Stepping out of the forest not far ahead comes a group of men...if they can be called that. Rumors and children's ryhmes have hinted at these proto-humans for decades. From the mist shrouded past, these creatures appear man-like but yet again, not like "modern" man. They have jutting brow ridges, thicker jaws and are stoutly built, not to mention the primitive skins they're clothed in and the stone tipped weapons they carry... These are most certainly "cave men".

A brutish character steps to the fore, he raises his hands in the air and stands still, appraising the newcomers. The only sound is the creak of Duncan's bowstring.

No one makes a move as each side sizes up the other. There seem to be nearly a dozen of these cave men and they are obviously on some type of hunting expedition, as small capons and birds hang from crude rawhide belts alongside leathern sacks and other stone trinkets of lesser known use.

Surprisingly, the apparent leader steps forward, hands still raised in the air, and in halting common asks where the characters are bound to. They mention that they are going to slay evil. The leader of the cavemen shakes his head in confusion, but at the same time seems to take particular notice of the metal weapons that the dark elf and lizardman are wielding. He takes another few steps forward and slaps his hand on an obsidian axe, while still looking longingly at the metal weapons. "Strong...to kill. Good. Last long and long." he says, and he points to the weapons.

On a hunch Zenin pulls one of the platinum coins from the bridge out of his pouch and shows it to the leader. Looking over his shoulder at his wary men, the proto-man approaches and reaches out for the coin. He looks at it with amazement and then bites it, apparently satisfied he puts it in a sack at his waist and fishes around in it for a second. He draws forth 5 small, smooth, black stones. "Fire god live here", he says as he points to the stones, and then he drops them in Zenin's palm. They're immediately warm...warmer than they should be.

Looking closely, Zenin sees a dim red glow at the stone's heart. Their use is determined soon enough...

With a nod of his shaggy head, the leader turns and strides off into the thick woods. His hunters, following in a loose band, disappear with him, like wisps of smoke on the wind. After some dead reckoning by the ranger, the group decides that they're moving in generally the correct direction as they move off through trees.

Time passes and the terrain becomes more ruggedly hilled, with small gullies and ravines appearing, making travel that much more difficult. Eventually, towards evening, a hill is crested and off in the distance the ruins of a tumbled tower are sighted. At last, the House of the Worm.